


A Place to Lay Your Head

by robotfvckers



Series: Genyatta Strawpoll Prompts [5]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Werecreatures, Consensual Somnophilia, Human Zenyatta, Knotting, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, NSFW Art, Outdoor Sex, Somnophilia, consent is not expressly stated, just in case, zenyatta enjoys it i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2019-01-06 00:17:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12200166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotfvckers/pseuds/robotfvckers
Summary: The dragon of the mountain receives an unexpected visitor.





	A Place to Lay Your Head

**Author's Note:**

> Artwork by [gayrob0t](http://gayrob0t.tumblr.com/)!

The promise of rain calls to Genji as surely as darkened clouds blanket the sky. It is exciting, the first rain, and he ventures to greet it, tasting electricity on his tongue, bursting into the storm that opens its gigantic maw and spills tears upon the parched lands and rivers.

His own lake swells and bubbles with it, strengthening with its gift, and Genji preens, powerful and pleased, serpentine body flexing and shimmering in the air above. He passes the afternoon this way, flying, soaking in his life force, roaring over the land as the rain softens it, every creature within his forest reminded to whom they owe their lives and blessings.

So lost in his own joy, Genji does not realize until he settles along the pebbled shores of his domain that he is not alone.

The dragon smells the fresh, familiar loam of his lake, the budding flora, the small spirits that linger in the low brush nearby, close to their life source, furred and earthy. With another great wuff, he scents something else: the lightest taste of incense, rich and wooden.

The trees around him shudder as the great beast shifts. His scales remain, shimmering like emeralds, as do his two great horns and the golden line of fur that trails along his spine and tail. His senses weaken in humanoid form, but it proves useful for concealment, and Genji prides himself on his stealthiness, learned from his family long ago.

His nostrils flare as he follows the scent away from the water, clawed feet displacing his weight soundlessly. Behind an overgrowth of low brush, the forest opens to a small clearing, bracketed on one side by a great mountain. The moon breaks through the gloom, illuminating the space as the rain softens into a ghostly mist.

Tucked into this quiet nook is his shrine, paint chipped and aged, nearly reclaimed by the earth. Genji cares not: humans had long abandoned the forest, and he persisted without them. However, within the old, once beautiful structure sits a simple tokkuri, stoppered with cork and twine.

Genji approaches, scenting the air: the woody spice lingers like the whisper of perfume, intensifying with each step. He crouches, staring at the strange jug, and then he spots it.

A sandaled foot sticking out from behind his shrine.

Genji leaves the offering untouched, rounding silent as a spectre upon the figure pressed against his shrine, sheltered from the rain.

Genji stares. He cannot remember the last time he saw a human, much less one like this, with dark, freckled skin and bright, tattered robes. He studies his shorn pate and slackened face as the man sleeps, uncaring that he rests in the wilderness where no human dared travel and beneath the thick plume of a storm threatening to return.

The smell plays along his nose, enticing and warm, and he leans over him, sniffing, inches from the human’s face. This close, he sees the faded scars that line his lips and cheeks, the small anomalies that make the neat grid of his jieba organic and soft, the dark lines of his lashes that twitch where they rest against high cheekbones. The monk sleeps deep enough to dream. Who would harm such a human, who radiates sweet warmth and scent and sleeps soundly in the den of a great dragon? He presses the warm tip of his nose behind the human’s ear, smells fragrance and salt and the hint of copper beneath his skin.

Genji mouths at his throat, breathing deep, burrowing gently into that smell, and the human twitches. With a cant of his head, he watches the shudder of his exposed chest, how the human’s nipple pebbles as he scents him. His tongue lashes against his pulsepoint, and the human’s full lips part in a breathless gasp, chin angling away, drawing the line of his neck long and slender, and Genji wants something more than just the smell and taste of the monk beneath him.

He leans back, settles closer to the human’s middle, claws framing his chest. With small, smooth tugs he works the fabric from the monk’s shoulder, exposing his chest fully, his other nipple as dusky and shy as the first. With a quiet hum, Genji traces where it begins to swell, watches it peak beneath his fingers, the monk arching into the touch unconsciously. His tongue swells, and he dips down hurriedly, watching the monk’s face as he tastes, gently, so gently, to keep him undisturbed.

The monk huffs, mouth pursing, and as Genji circles around a hard nipple, flicking over it with hot, wet lashes of his tongue, the human’s cheeks flush rosy and dark. He tastes of salt and sweetness, the kindness of him made physical: a being with a fine soul graced his forest, gave him offering, and Genji wants him and more, starved for it.

His ardor for the rain and his visitor washes over him, captures him in sudden, new curiosity. The human’s chest swells beneath his ministrations, and he takes care to avoid nipping with his fangs, sucks the sweet flesh until the skin glistens with viscous saliva, thick and slippery. He twists the tender peaks, enamored with their shine and the monk’s quiet breathing grown laborious with his touch. He smooths his palms over his chest, massages in slow, even circles, skimming down his flanks, his quivering stomach, drawn thin and fluttery.

  
Art by [gayrob0t](http://gayrob0t.tumblr.com/)

It takes only a few soft motions to lift the monk’s hips, slight as he is, and he bunches his kasaya beneath his back. The shifting cloth reveals thin, muscular thighs, a neatly bundled fundoshi, the outline of the monk’s cock, a patch of dampness, spreading as Genji teases his fingers along his clothed shaft, watching it twitch eagerly.

He reminds himself to be patient, his own cock filling as the monk jerks and gasps, hips angling against his hand in soft, weak presses. Genji catches the fabric in his claws, shredding the garment in two, slow tugs. He drinks in the sight of the monk’s swollen cock, long and pretty, pearled at its peak. He cannot resist tasting it, and a hard whimper tumbles from the monk’s lips. Genji stalls, staring, mouth poised upon his quivering flesh, waiting until the monk relaxes once more.

He hooks his hands around each thigh, dipping his head beneath the cute swell of his balls, swiping against his hole, slicking it with spit. Genji cannot remember the last time he had touched another so, and it shakes him, the pliant softness of the monk, his sweetness, and he surges forward, deeper, working him open. It’s tight, and his mind races at the thought of stuffing him full with his cock, claiming him. The monk whines, soft and breathless, but he pins him easily, slows when the human begins to move too much, drawn from deep sleep. His cock oozes and jumps, taps against his stomach sluggishly as Genji opens him up, a small rivulet of slick pooling where his stomach divots.

He isn’t sure how long he spends teasing and tasting, working the human to pieces. The sky clears, and the moonshine paints the monk in pale tones, nipples bright and shining, cock matting his sparse hair with slick. He forces his tongue deep for a final time, withdrawing with a smooth wet pop that satisfies him.

Genji slides to his knees shakily, grasping the human’s thighs, drags his cock, once, twice, against the human’s inner thigh. He dwarves him, tapered and thick, leaking over the monk’s stomach, marking him with his scent. He plants his hands at the human’s waist, nestling his thighs beneath the monk’s, angling to watch the head of his cock nudge against the soft, eager hole that parts like a dream for him as he presses forward.

There is little resistance as the first few inches glide inward, yet as Genji feeds him more and more, groaning low, the heat of him near scalding and perfect around his cock, he has to withdraw, nudging with more insistence, still mindful, ever so, of the monk’s comfort.

He is nearly settled fully, sweat beading along his brow, when the human’s eyelashes flutter. He moans, fingers sinking into the dewed grass, and as Genji's hips meet his fully, rocking in soft, aborted motions, the amber of the man’s eyes find his own, unseeing and wide.

He opens his mouth, perhaps to speak, but he moans hard instead, shaking, hands finding Genji’s arms and holding fast.

They stare, breathing wildly, Genji at a loss as much as the human, forgetting common tongue and thought. Then the human breathes, staring down the lines of their bodies before returning to Genji’s face, pupils large and dark, his lower lip locked between his teeth. With the slightest undulation, the monk shifts his hips, stuttering low and wild, locking his ankles around his scaled hide. His tail finds the monk’s calf, twisting around it possessively.

Harsh vibrations shake his chest, purrs, as the monk clings to him; he is still so tight, and Genji moves slow, even when his whole body throbs with want, pleasure molten between his hips. The sound of their coupling ricochets off the mountain wall, louder than it seems, and the monk claps a hand over his beguiling, pursed mouth.

Genji leans in, licking between his fingers, scenting him, how sweet and potent he’s become, writhing and pleasured.

“No.” And it is barely more than a growl, rough from misuse. “I wish...to hear you.”

A flush burns its way across the monk’s cheeks, and as Genji jostles his hips higher, grinds a bit deeper, the monk sinks his fingers into his scales, gasps broken and desperate.

It takes little more than a handful of thrusts before the monk draws tight, quaking, insides clenching so hard that Genji hisses through the beginnings of the monk’s orgasm. The warm, freckled, scarred planes of his body, slick with sweat and spend, shimmer; the monk sounds ragged, so lost, that Genji rushes towards his own end. He hunches his hips, the monk’s thighs flattened to the ground as he pistons into him, burrowing as deep as he can reach. Those amber eyes grow large, staring incredulous and wild as the base of Genji’s cock swells. He whimpers and takes and takes, and Genji is grateful for it as he gnashes his teeth and grunts through his orgasm, locked inside, flooding his partner.

As the first wave passes, Genji curls forward and traces his tongue along the monk’s chest, cleaning him of his own spend while the monk grasps his horns, moaning and laughing shakily.

He waits to speak until Genji retreats, squirming his hips, groaning as another shiver of pleasure shakes down his spine.

“I take it...the sake was not enough.”

Genji blinks before his eyes narrow in abject mischief.

“You are capricious, monk.” The words roll off his tongue, sloppy and harsh, though the monk seems to have no trouble understanding him.

“I wonder…” The human pauses, huffs as his cock twitches, leaks against his belly with another canting of Genji’s hips. “...what would have become of me without such an offering.”

“I am not sure it was enough.” The dragon rumbles, mouthing at the monk’s throat, fangs teasing more rough, fluttering sounds from him. “Perhaps I shall keep you. Your kind has neglected me. A dragon spurned is a dangerous thing.”

“A noble task…” The monk whispers, hoarse and sated. “...for a wanderer such as I.”

Genji’s purring returns, loud and rumbling.

“I shall have the name of my new servant.”

And Zenyatta tells him, amused by the strange, fortuitous events that have placed him beneath the dragon god of the great mountain.

* * *

The rainy season comes. The small shrine is rebuilt and painted, and though there are never offerings placed beneath it, the dragon and his mate want for nothing.


End file.
